


so life gave gifts to death, ever courting the inevitable

by CherFleur



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amoral Characters, BAMF Faith Lehane, Demiromantic Faith, F/F, Found Family, I do what I want, This is old so keep that in mind, they did Faith dirty so i'm gonna change it, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherFleur/pseuds/CherFleur
Summary: Instead of booking it straight to Sunnydale, Faith leads her pursuers on a merry chase across the Northern US.One stop on her bus and train hopping journey leads her to a city that has more to offer than cheap beer and a few less homeless people to play bloodbag. Faith knows how to spot an opportunity and make a play that'll keep her skin in tact for longer, but she wasn't expecting to begin to actuallycare.
Relationships: Faith Lehane & Original Character(s), Faith Lehane/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one of my older WIP that I've cleaned up a bit. Don't know when I'll continue it, but I have plans for it at least.

It wasn’t unusual for Deirdre to be out at night.

More often than not she was out in the twilight hours running errands she didn’t have time for during the day because of school and homework.

To be honest, her people were one of the few mortal related ones that demons and vampires didn’t usually bother with because they were just too much trouble to be worth it. A little too difficult to kill without any particularly good gain in reward, not particularly tasty or likely to give a power boost if consumed. Sure, some peoples and creatures of the darkness liked to use their body parts as ingredients or to sacrifice them during rituals, but they weren’t exactly difficult to replace.

While Deirdre wasn’t physically all that much stronger than a human, she was, however, gifted with some arcane ability, and that made creatures of the night a little leery. Magic could be unpredictable, and a demon never knew just what masteries any given one of her people might have unless they did long reconnaissance. Which was generally more hassle than they were worth.

The fact that it wasn’t unusual for her to be out at that time of night was how she came across a situation that nearly stunned her. Or got her killed; it really all depended on the perspective.

Either way, Deirdre’s life was changed forever.

A vampire went flying passed her head as she turned the corner away from the grocery store – they were low on a couple of things at home – before it turned to dust as a wooden stake whistled passed her a breath behind it. Wide eyed and startled, Deirdre stumbled back around the corner of the building to peek out at the sight of a girl around her own age tossing vampires around like it was nothing, movements quick and instinctive; deadly. Her breath caught even as her thoughts raced for what kind of creature this girl might be so as to be physically superior to a vampire.

There were only so many things she could be, and since she was a living, breathing being who tasted like darkness and felt like the need to look over your shoulder –

Slayer.

_I thought the Slayer was on the Sunnydale Hellmouth!_

Even thinking it had her heart twisting in her chest with fear and exhilarated disbelief.

Fascinated, she watched as the girl worked her way through two of the four remaining vampires with relative ease. The - probably the – Slayer slipped slightly on the wet pavement and missed the heart of one of them and kicked it away from her to give herself some breathing room. Sliding down towards the ground in a crouch, Deirdre held out a hand towards the stake lying in the pile of dust near her and called it towards her, feeling an odd resonance in the wood when it slapped into her palm.

Was it because it had been carved by a Slayer, or was it because it had been used to kill a vampire? Maybe more than one? Did that cause the nature of the wood to change? While she didn’t feel the girl’s aura from this far away, she bet that it was intense like any other predator’s was, a little nerve wracking.

Unfortunately, her observation was cut short by the wind changing and one of the remaining vampires noticing her and snarling.

The squeak of surprise she released was automatic and only mildly embarrassing.

As was the way she flung the stake at him in a reflexive _keep away!_ motion and impaled him in the heart by true chance. It was also instinct that had her continue the arc with a flicker of thought and a twist of energy, so that it hit the other vampire as it turned towards her as well, leaving them both as dust on the ground.

Oh.

Oops.

The grind of boot against loose grit and debris on cracked cement had her head jerking up to stare into the dark eyes of the Slayer. In an instant the girl had turned from the ash piles towards Deirdre with an unreadable look on her face that had her scrambling to her feet and hauling ass in the opposite direction.

Stronger than most she might be, but that didn’t automatically mean faster, especially in an urban area. Give her a stretch of undeveloped earth and she could run all day, but pavement and iron and manmade devices limited her.

While she could handle creatures of the night she was _not_ going to test if this Slayer had something against anything not human, because even if she might _look_ human, she most certainly didn’t _feel_ like one. It was always a bit iffy on whether or not they would only go after the ones that attacked others or if they would decide that anything outside of the realm of baseline humans deserved to die. If she was being honest, Deirdre _really_ didn’t want to be just another creature to sate bloodlust.

Deirdre most _definitely_ didn’t have the power to fight off someone born into the Line of Slayers!

However, tonight was not her night, because a strong grip snagged the back of her jacket and yanked her to a stop before shoving her up against the brick wall of the unfortunately convenient alleyway to the right. Automatically, she ducked her head down and hiked up her shoulders in anxiety while hugging her abused grocery bag and squeezing her eyes shut because she didn’t want to see it if she was going to die.

“Hey, whoa, easy girl,” a low, pleasantly raspy voice spoke up from in front of her. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. ‘Less you gimme a reason too, anyway.”

_Is that a… Boston accent?_

“B-But…” she stammered softly, nerves taking over as she peeked one eye open to look into dark eyes in gold tinted features. Wow. “You’re Th-The _Slayer._ ”

She was, um, much prettier and much scarier up close.

“Yeah, _Vampire_ Slayer,” strong hands released the grip they had on Deirdre’s upper arms – part relief part regret – as the other girl took a step back and shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. “Kinda says it in the name. You a vampire?”

“Um, no.”

“You generally a dastardly evil person with no good intentions?”

“N-no, I don’t… don’t _think_ so…”

“Then you ain’t my problem.”

Deirdre stared wide eyed over at the lovely looking Slayer with the dark wavy hair and grinning mouth with painted lips under heavy lidded eyes smudged with smoky makeup. Somehow, she found something like awe and fascination curling up from underneath the nerves and fear, tingling against her skin bizarrely. They were nearly the same height, thought the Slayer managed to be about an inch shorter than Deirdre in a strange change of circumstances.

Dangerous she might be, even with a heavy aura restrained in what was probably a subconscious action, but this Slayer looked more tired than violent. She’d always been curious by nature, helped by the fact that her species didn’t quite feel fear in the way that others did, and now that the danger had passed, she felt interest bubbling under her skin.

Was she new? Was that why the Slayer wasn’t on the Hellmouth?

Had the previous Slayer died?

Would this Slayer be stationed here in Seattle, despite there being no Hellmouth to contain?

The parts of her that were generally called silly hoped that she _was_ meant for Seattle and wouldn’t head to one of the other traditional sites. Wouldn’t it be something, to live in the place where this pretty Slayer was patrolling in the darkness and apparently not terribly interested in tearing all things Other apart?

“Do you have somewhere to go?” her mouth blurted out and she reddened in horror as a dark brow arched at her, one of her hands shooting up to cover her treacherous lips. Even as she continued to mumble like the doofus her brother always called her. “You just look like you’re new to town…”

The dark Slayer simply stared at her consideringly, as if reading Deirdre like a book as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up after setting it between her lips, taking a deep drag that lit her features in a warm glow. It drew the eye to the flicker of shadow on a still soft line of cheek and the gentle curve of jaw, the faint sheen of lipstick mostly rubbed matte. She was… she was _really_ pretty.

Her heart was shuddering in her chest with nerves.

“What are you?” was said in lieu of anything else as the Slayer exhaled smoke thick with potential threat. Though not nearly as dense as the intimidating - fascinating - aura that the Slayer exuded. “You ain’t human, are you?”

“Um, I’m a little human,” she admitted, lowering her hand and eyes away from the oddly transfixing sight of the Boston native smoking. “But I’m a Druid.”

“Druid? Isn’t that like, trees and witchcraft stuff?”

Wincing at the description, because while it wasn’t an uncommon misconception, it was still a little frustrating. The fact that druid and dryad was almost synonymous in the world of the supernatural was also completely mind boggling. All sorts of access to the arcane, and they just decided to shoe them in together because they sounded similar. She’d take being called a weird kind of witch over a dryad though, simply because she knew enough dryads to say she wouldn’t like living in a tree.

“More like, um, elementals? Nature magic.”

Another puff on the cigarette before the Slayer shrugged and angled her body away from Deirdre’s, taking some of that oppressive attention off of her. It also happened to make some of the tension in her shoulders ease at even the feint that she had the freedom to escape should this beautiful danger decide she wasn’t worth the air she breathed.

“Sure,” those dark eyes were sharp, though. Full of calculation and potential threat. “How far away?”

“N-Not far,” mumbled out as she carefully shifted away from the wall she’d been pressed up against. “Just a few blocks.”

When a hand that could snap her neck like a twig gestured lazily for her to lead the way Deirdre scurried forward quickly, glancing back nervously at the lazy eyed Slayer as she meandered easily behind her. Deceptively slim shoulders slumped confidently in her leather jacket and tight dark jeans, well-worn black boots on her feet, practically prowling forward. An almost amused lazy grin curled the corner of a full mouth before the other girl blew out a cloud of smoke towards Deirdre, kickstarting her into looking forward once again to lead back towards her home.

Deirdre was probably doing the stupidest thing she could ever do, but something about the dangerous girl behind her made her want to help. To know more.

She’d always had the habit of biting off more than she could chew, but this was certainly something else. Still, the ground was steady under her feet even if her heart was shuddering in her chest, even if there was red in her cheeks.

Deirdre hoped that her instincts didn’t lead her astray.

Her house was one of the few that hadn’t been bought out for an apartment building or shopping center, sitting almost ridiculously between two modern buildings with more greenery than a good chunk of the rest of the area. It wasn’t like there were _no_ plants everywhere else, but it was more like their garden had taken over a good portion of their house and yard and none of her family particularly minded it.

Especially with the way that they enjoyed the nature magic that was drawn to the little piece of greenery in the midst of the city. It was only a single story tall, but it was in fairly good condition, roses and other flowers and vines growing up the sides practically hiding the faded white paint and decorating the brown trim while climbing the gutters. Gutters that magically never got clogged or needed cleaning out, much to the jealousy of their human neighbors who kept on asking for the name of the company they used.

It had been her mother’s family’s house.

The Home Grove that the Clave had was on the other side of the water, carefully maintained and positively _seeping_ with magic from centuries of care and gentle direction of ley lines and nature faults to feed it.

She loved both places, but the little house was… cozy. Of course, if she asked it would be her inheritance, but Deirdre kind of hoped to start her own garden someday, maybe taking buds and cuttings from her childhood home with her.

Continuing the old was good, but she wanted something _new_.

“Huh. Cute.”

Turning towards the dark eyed young woman, Deirdre bit her bottom lip nervously.

“My name’s Deirdre O’Byrne. What… Um, what should I call you?”

“Faith,” those heavy-lidded eyes focused on her for a long moment and Deirdre felt her cheeks heat again, pink darkening to red. “Faith Lehane.”

Okay, oh, wow. This was probably the worst idea that she’d ever had and that was saying something since she’d regularly brought home animal shifters as a child. Not to mention the way that she had asked if she could keep them much to her brother’s amusement and her father’s exasperation.

“Then please come in and be safe under the banner of Guest Rite.”

“Guest Rite?” Faith puffed on her cigarette before pinching out the cherry between her fingertips, looking considering as she tucked the filter into her pocket. “That sounds familiar. Bread and salt kinda deal, right? You let me get hurt under your roof you get cursed or something?”

“Usually,” she admitted, resituating the bag in her arms. “But since my family are patrons of Gaia, the ground will open up and eat us whole if we break our word and cause our Guest harm.”

Those large, sooty eyes looked at her with blatant surprise for a moment before the Slayer laughed throatily, a slow grin pulling up one corner of her mouth. Some kind of light shone in those dark eyes, adding levity to the sound that held the sinister in the shadows.

“Oh, little Deirdre, you’re all kinds of bite sized, aren’t you?”

She didn’t know why that made her lungs feel tight and her stomach fill with butterflies, but she hurried towards the house with a red face and the sight of that sly mouth stuck in her mind. The wards welcomed her with ease and pulled back enough at her insistence to allow Faith to step into the doorway, where Deirdre immediately shuffled into the kitchen to offer refreshments and cement the Rite.

The Slayer took the glass of water and selected an apple from the counter, leaving a smudge of red on the glass and taking a bite from the flesh of the fruit. Deirdre felt it as the wards snapped back into place and the Slayer was welcomed under Guest Rite, the sleepy warmth of the family energy coiled carefully around that death cold aura. She could see the Slayer feel it as well in the way her aura flexed curiously before settling once again into that constrained darkness.

After hurriedly putting away the things she’d run out to get at the grocery store, she turned to put the bag in the recycling bin, feeling the weight of that gaze on her back.

Swallowing thickly, Deirdre looked over at the Slayer again who sat with chin in hand heavy lidded eyes staring at her without moving at all. Like prey in the gaze of a predator that was deciding whether or not they were hungry enough to put in the effort.

“Um,” she squeaked out, watching thick lashes blink and dark eyes flickered up and down her lackluster form in almost amusement. “Is there anything else you’d like? I could cook? Nothing too complicated, but…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” the Slayer stood in a fluid motion that had Deirdre’s pulse picking up as Faith strolled forward casually, bracketing the slighter taller Druid up against the counter. “I have all night to do my job, y’know?”

It was extremely hard to breathe all of a sudden and every time she managed to inflate her lungs, she tasted power and death and the faint traces of leather and smoke. The Slayer’s potentially neck snapping hands pressed against the counter on either side of Deirdre’s hips and the other girl leaned in, her aura thickening though not with threat. As if she was focusing more intensely on Deirdre suddenly, like there was something interesting about her when she tucked her chin towards her chest to hide her throat and heat burned in her face at how close they were.

She couldn’t look away from the way that those dark eyes fixed on her own with such inhuman attention, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Right,” fell faintly from her lips as she hugged her arms tighter around her own ribcage where they had found themselves at some point. She could feel her heart rabbiting from the outside and wondered if the Slayer could hear it. “All those vampires.”

“Mhmm,” the low hum felt like it shivered across her bones as warm breath slid over her face. “Plenty of vampires that need to be perma-dead.”

As suddenly as the Slayer had pinned her in place without actually touching her, the girl had pulled away and twisted around the kitchen island to down the rest of her water and pick up the bitten apple. Deirdre watched her grab another in her other hand and toss it up into the air idly, wary predator eyes never leaving the Druid’s frozen form.

“I’ll be back, Deirdre. Don’t wait up.”

Even as the door slid quietly open and shut, as the wards sighed as the Slayer left the premises, as Deirdre slid down the cabinet behind her to sit on the floor, she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping.

How could she, when every time she closed her eyes it was to the beautiful dark staring back at her with indifference yet hunger? Everything that had built Deirdre into this world revolved around the growing of things, of new life and healing, of branching off from the old and into something young. Death was part of the cycle of formation and dissolution, but it wasn’t _her_ part, and Deirdre wasn’t sure if it was simply the allure of her polar opposite or the fact that the Slayer was just – _so –_

Her hands, when they’d held her against the wall had been warm and strong, immovable as the cold curl of danger hung with the sweet sharpness of a blade around her. Despite the difference in their strength she had been perhaps not kind or friendly, but she had given Deirdre the benefit of the doubt. The low rasp of her voice had carried behind it the rattle of death, a warning for those that could read such omens.

The way her eyes had cut into Deirdre, the smear of a red painted lip against glass, the flicker of shadows in the light of the cigarette, how much _room_ that small frame seemed to take up…

“I think I’m gay,” the words were muffled by her hands, hiding her face from the empty house, wards humming around her. “Not even like, a little bit gay. But the big gay. So gay.”

Deirdre was attracted to the Slayer for better or worse – probably for worse, honestly – but she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy with it. Sure, it was like the mouse being infatuated with the cat that hadn’t decided what game it wanted to play with it, but it was still exhilarating.

She’d never felt like this before, and if she had to face a little bit of Death to feel it again… well. Fear wasn’t quite the same in her species.

And she’d always been curious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For AJ, who enjoyed it enough to ask for a second chapter! And also pointed out mistakes in the last one, lol.

Faith knew that what she was thinking of doing was stupid. That it was probably one of the most recklessly dangerous things she’d ever done.

But she was so _tired_.

Her first instinct after her Watcher, Theresa, had died – the woman had been more of a parent to her than Faith’s blood ever had – had been to fall back on familiar survival tools. Kakistos had done – _awful things_ in killing her, and Theresa had told her to run, to get as far away from there as fast as possible. They both knew that she wasn’t ready for a vampire of that caliber, not yet, not without warning and her Watcher to support her. Despite that, Faith had wanted to fight, had wanted to stay on home ground, but… she knew how to take care of herself when it came to human monsters. Knew how to keep from becoming another statistic.

It was just that none of that could help her. It was all just about _useless_ in the face of an ancient, scarred vampire that was obsessed with adding a Slayer to his list of kills. Like a trophy head to display on his wall, simply because she’d breathed in his vicinity.

But Faith wasn’t quite sixteen yet, and she didn’t want to die.

She might not always like her life, might rarely find happiness or safety, but she had fun and wasn’t as scared as she’d once been. There were different things to fear than getting drugged at a party or getting forced into casual prostitution like her mother. Fearing that the boys would decide that they didn’t like to dance to her tune anymore and would take matters into their own hands.

Before, she could handle herself alright in a fight, but she’d fought to wound and escape then.

Faith didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

When she’d been living with Theresa, all of those old fears had seemed distant. Now that she was gone, she was trying her best not to let them get the better of her.

It was hard, though.

Instead of taking a straight line to Sunnydale and the infamous other Slayer, Buffy Summers, Faith forced herself to make a more convoluted trail. The first bus she’d hopped, she’d had a _really_ shitty dream of a screaming black woman in tribal paint, she’d knelt in front of a sign that said _Sunnydale_ with blood on her hands. Then, when she didn’t immediately switch tracks, she had the dream again, and this time there was blood on _her_ hands as well.

If that wasn’t some kind of omen to _wait_ , Faith didn’t know _what_ was.

So she detoured through every state on the norther half of the US, occasionally dipping down a little south just to be contrary, until she hit the West Coast. Those dreams stopped, and others, less disturbing ones, took their place.

This other, greener, coast was both similar and different from the place she’d grown up in; all cities were the same, but the people were a little different.

It was almost like the further West she traveled, the more _polite_ people got, and she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to treat them in turn. Theresa had taught her basic manners and shit like that, but people absently said “Excuse me” and “Thank you” to each other in Seattle. It was weird.

They held open doors for people even if it wasn’t some bullshit chivalry thing. It was like an unspoken cultural phenomenon to hold it for at least three people before stepping away and someone else held it.

People didn’t look at the ground when they were walking, didn’t ignore the other people on the street with the single minded focus of getting from point A to point B. They smiled at strangers without prompting and there were people who played music on street corners and didn’t get chased off by shop owners.

Faith just didn’t get it.

Made it surprisingly easy to get around without someone eying her suspiciously, but it also meant that the little old married couple at the motel kept on asking how her trip was going. Not bad weird, but still weird enough to make her jittery with nerves.

At least they hadn’t asked about the nightmares she had in the middle of the day.

Or the fact that she was out all night.

While she hadn’t been feeling safe enough to try and scratch the itch that came from wanting a fuck to ease the tension, she’d been out slaying every night like clockwork.

That was one thing that the Northwest didn’t skimp on. Vampires everywhere, and most of them came to her rather than needing to be tracked down. If she weren’t so fucking exhausted with overthinking everything and the fear of what would happen to her if Kakistos caught up, it would almost be like a vacation.

Probably something to do with the amount of rain they got, how overcast the weather generally was.

Something had to give, and Faith knew with experienced resignation that it was most likely going to be her, if she didn’t change something. While she had some problems when it came to issues that she could avoid – generally making hasty, damning decisions in panic – if it was something immediate or hindsight, Faith was generally pretty clear.

If she’d run straight to Sunnydale and to the protection of an older Slayer, she probably would have been too strung out to explain the situation properly. Too paranoid and stuck in her head to immediately trust the older Slayer with what her problem was. Faith would have been replaying Theresa’s last moments alive over and over again, the sudden loss of the safety and stability she’d just started to trust.

Paralyzed by fear.

Even if fear was a little different now that she was a Slayer, hit a little different, Theresa said that the psychological responses, learned ones, would take time to grow out of. The Watcher had hoped that since there were two Slayers, that Faith would have the _time_ to learn how to grow out of her various bullshit neuroses. Most Slayers didn’t last more than two years, and though Buffy had been resuscitated, that didn’t mean that she had managed it.

The Line of Slayers had split a few times before, but it lay in Faith now, as it had in Kendra before her, rather than in Buffy. If Buffy died again, no one would be called, the Line having already switched.

While she hadn’t quite understood it, how serious Theresa had been about making sure that Faith got more training before taking over a Hellmouth, she’d been… thankful. While her Watcher hadn’t exactly been the mothering or maternal type, she’d been kinder and more considerate that Faith was sure that her belligerent newly-Awakened-self deserved.

She’d died for it. Theresa had died for her.

For the chance to let Faith grow as a person before as the Slayer.

So when she first noticed the then nameless little Deirdre, had noted the odd fizzle against her nerves that meant not-human but also not-threat, she’d let herself get distracted. Let herself follow more than survival instinct. Faith had been hanging out in downtown Seattle for nearly a week at that point, entrenching herself in the nightlife and learning good areas to patrol.

The habit wasn’t quite a habit, but it was something that Theresa had drilled into her with her relentless need to prepare Faith for the harsh realities of these other monsters that roamed the world.

If she hadn’t been so fucking tired and looking over her shoulder every time she went back to her motel room, she probably wouldn’t have done it. If she didn’t have Theresa’s no nonsense voice in the back of her head reminding her that networking and allies could come in handy, she probably wouldn’t have done it.

If Deirdre hadn’t looked so stunned but not _afraid_ when Faith had pinned her, she definitely wouldn’t have.

Faith admitted that she liked power, that she liked the strength that came with being the Slayer and she admitted it freely. She’d done more thieving, more fucking, and just _more_ since she didn’t have to worry so much about the bitterness of the human element, and she _loved_ it. This power that had chosen her came with a heavy burden of responsibility, but it had also freed Faith in ways she hadn’t known she’d been imprisoned.

She didn’t have to fear the men in the night, she didn’t have to fear finding food or money because her mom drank it all and her old man was never home. She didn’t have to fend for herself.

Because being the Chosen One, being the Slayer, had also given her Theresa, who had reminded her that there was more than survival out there and moments of stolen joy.

So she’d chased after Deirdre when she ran, had leaned into the girl who stared at her like she was _something_ , different and yet familiar. Not a monster in the dark to scare other monsters, the girl had looked at her without fear of death and become _curious._ The little Druid smelled like turned earth and the wood chips they put down on garden plots, something almost floral but also not. The heat off of her skin had felt a little like sunlight and not human warmth, and she remembered Theresa telling her she had an affinity for auras.

Apparently, Slayers had different affinities for things like this, and Faith was a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be slinging fireballs, but a sense of people and monsters was useful. Even if they hadn’t gotten to work on it very much and all the tools Theresa had been telling her about were back in Boston, useless to her.

There were more prophetic dreams for other Slayers, but hers weren’t always related to _herself_ ; rather, sometimes it was whoever’s aura was clinging to her.

It was the Guest Rite that allowed her to step foot into the house that felt bigger than it looked and maybe was because of some magic bullshit. Theresa had said that most witches, mages, and magically inclined species used something like Guest Rite, usually when hosting dignitaries or potential allies. In a way, maybe it was like that, with Faith feeling the Druid out and Deirdre hoping that Faith didn’t snap her neck.

It was the stunned awe that Deirdre regarded her with every time she so much as looked at her, that had her returning after finishing her patrol.

Her stuff was still back in that motel, but she wanted to see if the girl who’d so foolishly brought her home had been up to. Faith wanted to know if the Guest Rite remained after she’d left, or if it had been revoked and the cavalry called in to bag a Slayer for the little Druid.

Or if, despite all reason and odds, it was still in place and Faith was still welcome in the home of a veritable stranger who had given her the keys to her life.

So when the world sighed warm around her, welcoming and cautious against her bones when she opened the door to that little house… she wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge. Little Deirdre hadn’t done the smart thing and locked Faith out the second she got far enough away to no longer be considered a Guest. The Druid hadn’t run far and fast, hadn’t pulled any other magic hoodoo people onto the land the Guest Rite was tied to.

She was instead asleep at the kitchen island, and there was a veritable _mountain_ of sandwiches on the counter under plastic wrap on a serving platter. Faith’s name was written in sloppy sharpy on the plastic wrap, clearly stating who they were for.

Breathing slowly, quietly, she stared at the top of a disheveled head of ashy hair tinged green in the slowly blooming light of dawn. In a drying wrack by the sink, the glass that Faith had used earlier was cleaned and hanging innocently on a tine, as if waiting for her to return.

Like the stranger that Faith had so foolishly, desperately, decided to try and not kill or be killed by.

Maybe it was because she’d had a dream about climbing roses her first night in Seattle, climbing roses and ivy that twisted in on itself, around something. She knew instinctively that it wasn’t strangling something, but shielding it, and part of her knew that it was important to be here even if common sense said to book it.

But Faith was tired.

And she was hungry.

Filling the glass with water from the tap – even the water tasted cleaner here, and it was still city water – she sat down on the stool she’d vacated hours previous. She slowly lifted the plastic wrap and watched to see signs of waking in her unlikely host, only to feel strange when Deirdre didn’t.

As she ate the sandwiches – turkey and ham with mustard, lettuce and cucumber – her chest felt oddly tight and her throat thick. Blinking heavily against the tiredness in her bones, against the knowledge that this stupid girl who looked at her both familiarly and differently, Faith ate. Food was fuel, and she never turned down a meal that she would survive eating it.

Sure, Deirdre could have put some obscure poison in her daintily cut into triangle sandwiches – half which didn’t have crusts, as if she thought Faith wouldn’t eat them – to kill her. Poison the Slayer at the cost of her own life, of getting swallowed by the earth and crushed to death.

Faith wanted to live, and she was afraid of Kakistos taking away that chance to continue to live with this freedom she’d been entrapped by, but she’d also always been a bit reckless. A little bit crazy.

The sandwiches were good, besides, and just enough to sooth the beast in her stomach after a night full of Slaying.

When the light of the sun grew long enough to touch the skin of her hand which pillowed her head, Deirdre shifted a little. Waking kind of like Faith imagined plants did when they sought nutrients from the sun, petals unfurling.

The girl shifted to sitting upright with a yawn, her gray eyes still squinted shut as she stretched her arms over her head.

Faith had been sitting with her alone and defenseless in her home for at least half an hour and could have killed her at any point.

What an odd feeling, to find that someone could sleep through She Who Reaps being at her side, when she’d had non human people burst into tears from being in close proximity to her.

“Oh!” Deirdre immediately flushed that almost funny kind of ridiculous red at the sight of Faith finishing off the second to last half of sandwich. It was cute, in a way. “You’re back! Um.”

“You slept soundly,” Faith said after a moment of silently observing the girl curling in against herself with nervous embarrassment. “Told you not to wait up, though.”

“Well. Technically I didn’t?” the Druid ducked her head a little, gaze flickering up shyly with that almost fascinated curiosity. “I fell asleep!”

Faith snorted and finished the last sandwich mechanically, drinking the water and regarding the girl in front of her without much thought in her head. She let the Druid study her in turn, noting the way that the light hit her gray eyes lit with a shine of silver when the sun hit her iris at an angle. Kind of like a cat or something, and definitely not a human trait to have.

“… Is that Lei-Ach demon blood?”

The words were rushed with curiosity but earnest, even if the wide eyed look that Deirdre gave her was full of nervousness. Faith didn’t have much experience with shy people before she became the Slayer, and monsters – creatures? – didn’t try to _talk_ with her. Most of them were all “Blah blah, kill the Slayer! Ultimate evil yadda yadda” or “Please don’t kill me I only eat kittens!” it was actually kind of boring.

(She’d take boring banter over Kakistos finding her again. She’d take it if it meant she didn’t have to die.)

“Depends. What’s a Lei-Ach demon look like?”

Those gray eyes widened for a second, perhaps shocked that Faith was willing to play along at having conversation, before Deirdre seemed to brighten. The corners of her lips curled up a little at the corners, a strangely helpless expression on otherwise rather average features.

Yeah, Faith was tired. She was scared. She was grieving the one person who’d tried to help her be better than what she’d been born to. She was struggling to play it smart when all she wanted to do was run forever until her problems went away.

But… she was also kind of… _lonely_.

So she listened to Deirdre explain what a Lei-Ach demon looked like, and how she figured that it was their blood that was staining Faith’s shirt. She listened to her grow more animated and didn’t know what she felt when the Druid positively identified the demon’s description. Didn’t know much other than that her bruises were throbbing on her back, and that she’d apparently killed a demon that liked to slurp up bone marrow.

It was nothing like how Theresa taught her about demons, but it was… strangely comforting.

Faith didn’t understand why she let herself stay. Yet, her hands didn’t quite feel like shaking, and she didn’t want to rabbit out the door to her motel room and jump ship to California.

She took a blind leap, and she didn’t quite _trust_ – that just wasn’t her – but she didn’t have the adrenaline of hunt-fight-kill humming in her bones and blood, driving her forward. Whatever Deirdre was, whether it was that twisting thing of roses and vines from her dream or just a kind fool… Faith needed to catch her breath.

Might as well do it here.

With a girl who Faith could take in a fight, who looked at her like Faith was _something_ in a way that she hated to admit that she might need right then. Faith might not understand herself sometimes, might not understand _this_ , but she was perfectly willing to take advantage of it.

Just to catch her breath.


End file.
